


Peacock

by HopelessBanana



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (only the one), Episode 8, Insults, JJ is a smug asshole, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Romance, Short One Shot, Slurs, Yuri is a brat, kids need a time out, so everyone is nice and in character and getting along just fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8642236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopelessBanana/pseuds/HopelessBanana
Summary: Yuri is mad. JJ is annoying.
Right now, he can't think of a better target.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A friend in a group chat requested some Yurio and JJ fic, so I knocked this out in a couple of hours. Enjoy!

Yuri groans with second-hand embarrassment. This fucking guy. 

 

JJ is clapping along to the music, grinning almost manically. To be fair to him, the crowd is going wild, screaming alongside him. He's young, in his prime, and talented. Yuri supposes he can't blame them. Not that he has to be happy about it. 

 

When the song ends, JJ skates to the middle of the ice, falling to the floor. Yuri scoffs.  _ Really?  _ How dramatic. And did he just kiss his own reflection? “Gross,” he snarls, snorting. 

 

When JJ stands he ends up facing him, and the smug expression on his face only worsens. Is that even possible, Yuri wonders, when he looked so  _ disgustingly  _ self-absorbed already? He skates towards the edge of the rink, in the direction of his coach, who pats him on the shoulder and pulls him onto the side. Just as Yuri is about to start faking vomiting, as exaggerated as he can, JJ turns around again, catching his eye. So he pauses and waits to see what he will do. JJ winks, blowing a kiss, almost an imitation of the Japanese Yuuri’s  _ Eros _ . Oh, now he's  _ fuming _ .

 

It is a good job he's already changed out of his skates into his trainers, because he stamps across the end of the rink, ignoring the other Yuuri, who comes barrelling past with Viktor for some reason. Pah. Good. Let them stress. “Sorry, Yurio!” Viktor calls, almost a screech over his shoulder, and although he definitely doesn’t sound the same as usual, damn it,  _ that's not his damn name _ , and he's already mad. He might as well just stockpile that particular grievance too, because it's more to unload on JJ, who is obnoxious to begin with, and right now he can't think of a better target.

 

He doesn't want it to affect him, but he's still sore that his Grandfather never turned up. And Yuuri and Viktor seem to think he needs their support when they are the last people he wants to see, and now this  _ self-absorbed ass _ wants to try pissing him off? JJ would have been better off poking a sleeping tiger.

 

When he catches up to him, it is in the changing room, with his jacket off, sitting on a bench and mopping his brow. He starts for a moment when he walks in, although he's still decent. Then he grins, relaxing enough to lean back on his hands.

 

“Hey there,  _ Yurio _ , wasn't it?” That was no slip of the tongue, Yuri notes immediately. It was very, very deliberate. He can see it in the quirk of his lip, the false obliviousness in his eyes. So Yuri slams his fist into the wall and snarls.

 

JJ raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Couldn't keep your eyes off me, could you,  _ kid _ ?”

 

“I'm not a  _ kid _ , old man,” he barks, trying not to wince at how badly his accent sounds against JJ’s perfect pronunciation. It wasn't so bad around other people who didn't speak English as their first language, but... Call it another reason to be mad. Obviously. “And your performance was like a car crash, I was too horrified to look away.”

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,  _ petit chat _ .”

 

Yuri is hardly a talent at languages, but he’s competed at enough international competitions and heard enough smatterings of French in movies to get the gist. “Fuck off!”

 

“You’re the one who came storming in here,” JJ shrugs, and reaches down to start pulling off his shirt.

 

“Oi!  _ Мудак _ ! What are you doing?” Yuri yells, staggering backwards a couple of steps as if he has been physically hit.

 

“Changing. We’re in the changing rooms.” He says, all monotone condescension. That alone is enough to rile Yuri up even more, but then he changes tack, cocking his head to the side slightly and pursing his lips, evaluating. “Probably is best if you leave. Wouldn’t want someone to walk in and think I’m some sort of paedo.”

 

“ _ Сука блять _ !” Yuri tugs off his shoe and launches it at JJ’s head. Luckily (or unluckily, as the case may be) it misses, gliding past him and bouncing off the far wall.

 

JJ whistles, leaning back. “Damn. Good throw. Sure you wanna be an ice skater, not a football player?”

 

“All the better to wipe that smirk off your face!”

 

“Sorry, who was it that came first in the short programme just now?” JJ asks, and he preens like a peacock (yes, _that's_ the word to describe him best, Yuri thinks), stretching out his limbs, affecting being casual. It’s so  _ false _ ! Yuri could throw his other shoe, could kick open the doors to every locker in the damn room to throw those too, but…

 

No. It’s bad enough that he’s  _ letting  _ himself get so riled up by this guy. He breathes in -  _ one, two _ \- and lifts his chin, trudging across to the other end of the room to pick up his trainer, all his focus on  _ ignoring JJ _ . But when he stands back up from crouching, scowling at the dust bunnies his nice new Nikes picked up when they landed in the corner, he’s stood right behind him, hands on hips, that same irritating, infuriating grin.

 

“Sorry about that jealous crush of yours, Yurio. Maybe when you’re a couple of years older,” he teases, looming over him and ending on a wink.

 

Yuri punches him straight in the gut. Hard. “Fuck off! Who’s the one with a crush? You called me a fucking _lady_ earlier! Deluded old fag! Quit staring at me when you’re skating! It gives me the creeps!” That is what he’s come here to tell him in the first place, after all. Might as well get it out now, churn it all out of his system.

 

JJ winces, doubling over a bit as Yuri walks past him, only turning back around to kick him in the back of the knee. It buckles, as it  _ damn well should _ , and he stumbles forwards, sucking in a shallow breath and glaring back at Yuri in shock. So Yuri grins, a wide, shit-eating thing that seems to take over his face. “Watch your back, you dumb peacock,” he spits, pivoting on the ball of his foot so that he doesn’t have to look at that bastard anymore. “They don’t call me the Russian Yankee for nothing.” Even though he’s still angry, still worked up as he storms from the room, he feels the warm glow of victory burning in his chest.

 

JJ hobbles over to the bench, muttering curses under his breath. “Fucking kids.” He scowls, massaging his aching, slightly winded belly, then bursts into a slightly pained laughter.

 

_ Watch your back _ .

 

God damn. He’s going to have to.


End file.
